One Angus Bumby
by pumpkin moose
Summary: Angus Bumby did not exist. He could not exist. Because it was not possible. Alice/Bumby. Rated M for Mature.
1. Prologue: Wait, what?

Alice had touched pure poison once.

She felt the darkness ebb into the skin of her fingers; the scent of them was forever soaked in grime, and decay. It was the most trivial thing in the world, and she had been touched by it more than once.

The trivial thing being talking about her problems, issues, and thoughts. The dusty corners of her mind that didn't appear in reflections of the mirror but of murky water. The ones that floated into rain clouds and produced ash as a substitute. And the problems that caused the ash to ignite, and created a vocal symphony of her family's cries.

I suppose you could say these trivial things were not as trite as stated. After all, a decomposed and unrecognizable family was not something to be toyed with. Could you imagine what that could do to a little girl?

But that isn't what the poison was.

You would think, having your family 'slaughtered' in front of you would give stretching marks on your sanity. (Even when they did.) This was not poison; this was reality. And reality is the fertile soil to plant the perfect poison.

No, the poison came with a label. The brown-stained, and crumpled label that came with a giant skull on the side that read 'danger'. This is not a name, but merely a label. A label to what?

A man.

The poison title is faded and blotchy and resembles one Angus Bumby. You are correct to assume the man is merely a title, a fragment, an illusion. (Or Alice used to think that.)

The man had never existed in the first place. Nor had her Wonderland. The pieces she'd strewn in the stars crashed down and exploded like firecrackers, and with those pieces, came her memory. But these stars, she never got to keep. They dried up as soon as they touched her 'fertile soil'.

Angus Bumby had been a dream. Every time she sees him on the streets, she convinces herself such a man could never exist. 


	2. Chapter 1: The Curious Incident

**Disclaimer: I don't own American McGee's Alice Madness Returns.**

**A/N: The first chapter of this story is up! This is going to be a multiple chapter story with Alice/Bumby, if you couldn't already tell. This is my first time writing them out in actual dialogue, and I really do hope I've done them justice as I love both of them very much. **

Chapter One: The Curious Incident

In the late afternoon, around five o 'clock, Alice was told to gather her dress, and put on her shoes to fetch bread for supper.

She obliged with a small nod of her head as confirmation, and grabbed the money that was on the table. Bread was a vital part to any meal, after all. She didn't look back twice as she stepped out of the house, locked the door behind her, and started to walk through the musky air of what she called home. Her feet made some imprints in the ground, and clustered small pieces of dust onto her already stained shoes. The soles got wet from random puddles.

She walked light, and without purpose, a common trait of hers. She always found something new to look at but it was almost never good. She concluded the things she saw were best left alone unless it was in need. She could not stand to see injustice after all. It made her too sick, and it made tea go down harder in the late afternoon.

People of all multitudes walked by her, and some voiced their hurried concerns at passing her. Things about how different she was, or if she was relatively sane now. Alice could do nothing but shake her head at the accusations, and inquiries of the people because she didn't have answers herself. Her disease, her poison, was a figment of her imagination which she expelled and burned to the ground.

Angus Bumby.

There he was, as usual. Standing by the window while talking to a small child who seemed perplexed. His hair was still the same with its relative thickness as well as the color of coffee beans. She couldn't see from this angle but she assumed his eyes did not falter in their brightness. When she believed him to be real, she often found a question of treasure in those cool eyes. Moving aside from that, he also appeared the same in weight, and proportions. Angus Bumby had not changed one bit, and that was all the more proof he didn't exist! Surely men change like women with age!

"Alice, don't dwaddle now. We have to set up the table in precisely two hours and if I catch you curiously browsing, a swift and fierce smack to your bottom it will be!", her caretaker would yell in a shrill voice. Honestly, that nasty woman couldn't lift her hand against Alice even if she tried!

Moving from that, a thought wouldn't get out of her head.

What thought, you ask? Thinking about if his voice was just the same as well.

The money felt coarse against her fingers as she fingered it absentmindedly; her feet leading her to the building he worked at. Her emerald eyes glazed over, and she appeared much too concentrated in her own thoughts. Her position of stopping was in front of the door, where he resided. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she stopped thinking so hard just in time to find the door had opened and a child rushed past her legs, nearly making her fall.

_Oh, how rude! They could have at least done a proper 'excuse me' since I almost fell!_ She gained her balance soon enough and shot a tiny glare at the child bolting down the alley. The gaze softened a little and she shook her head, brushing off the dust of some chalk the boy rubbed on her. _It's not something to be bothered with._

Looking up from her dress, she was greeted, more like slammed, with the daunting aura of the doctor himself.

"Why, Alice Liddell. What brings you here?" His voice sounded dry, and strangely amused; it swam over her, and settled. His gaze danced on her and pierced down like sapphires heated to the highest heat, blazing. She found herself losing her breath, but the reason was lost to her. If such an illusion could have such a gaze, lord knows how mad she used to be.

But if she's still seeing him, doesn't that make her just as mad as before? "Doctor. I see you're doing well.", she barely pushed out, finding herself uncomfortable and vulnerable. But a Liddell did not cower in fear of an illusion so she erected her back and merely managed to look unamused. Little did she know, her eyes (like inward mirrors) told the beautiful depiction of each emotion she felt. All Bumby had to do was peer into them, and he knew her exact thought. After all, she was his best work.

Bumby actually had not planned to see Alice this evening (though, what an enjoyable evening it usually was). He was preoccupied in matters more serious then the little mad girl who kept stumbling onto his front door. Papers, and books needed to be written and read and with what little time he had, he also had appointments that needed to be dished. Why, a busy man like himself needn't associate himself with a broken piece of work.

His broken piece of work.

But how could he resist cracking her even more?

His face split a little, barely noticeable, into a darker politeness which she caught within an instant. "You never answered my question, girl. You know how I dislike my questions unanswered."

_What an entitled and rude man!_, she thought on a oath. But then stopped herself, and questioned that thought itself. He wasn't being particularly rude at all but in fact was being fairly polite and merely wanted his question answered. Alice would not normally think such a thing was entitled in any sort of way. So why did that one sentence ring so painfully hard in her head? So hard, it ricocheted, and made her head throb.

"I ... I don't know why I'm here. It feels like my thoughts have a mind of their own." Her eyes lowered for a fraction of a second as she mumbled that to herself. Her gaze came up worried, but strong and she had no doubt the man had heard her hurried words.

Bumby raised an eyebrow, and fought an inner smirk. "As usual, Alice. You always manage to make me want to break you more and more." Her eyebrows shot up and her expression looked surprised, but he didn't pay attention that. Taking her chin roughly between his paper-scented touch, he pulled her into the building and promptly shut the door behind her. After releasing her chin, he relished in the confusion, betrayal, wariness, then anger that passed through her face. Oh, how he delighted in this part of the afternoon.

"Come now, Alice."

She found herself backing into the building, floor boards creaking underneath her. That one sentence had her head spinning in a million directions. It made it throb, and pound against her temple and she fought with herself to remain cautious and intent on his motives. Had he done this before? Had he said that before to her? Gods, if only she could remember. How could an illusion feel so real, have such a cold touch? It chilled her to the very ends of her toes and made a shiver run through her (though she couldn't decide if it was with disgust, or attraction).

Bumby moved away from her, and quietly walked towards the picture of himself over the fireplace. With his hands held behind his back, he looked up at it as though it was exquisite, the finest piece of art in the world. A man of justice, of purpose, of class and knowledge. Mounted onto a wall, his future investments along with his intelligent self. How he loved to look at it, and to see how far he had gotten. Without a worry creasing his face, he turned back to her and chuckled softly under his breath. How frightened she looked, yet the fire still remained in her eyes. How he wished to crush it.

"Do you see me up there, Alice? Do you see what good I've done, and how I've profited from my hard work?", he wistfully asked, keeping his eyes on her.

"Why did you pull me inside so abruptly? You could have just asked to see me for a moment." She crossed her arms, and looked sternly at him, completely ignoring his questions."And you shouldn't handle people so roughly, it's rude!"

_Still the same firecracker_, he thought passingly as he let his hands fall to his sides, walking towards her.

Alice automatically felt in danger of being hurt, watching as his drew closer and with each inch covered, her hands began to feel sweaty, her heart jumping in her throat. There was no logical reason to feel this way, to a man moving towards her quietly and without malice. But she could feel it under her skin, feel the black bubble and ooze into her in pure fear. She bit her lip, and decided on the action of violence as protection. She had no reason for it, but better safe than sorry. And intuition was usually right.

She looked around for anything to grab while trying not to seem panicky. Something to hurt him with if he decided he wanted to be a disgusting man, or a threat to her. She had seen enough on the streets, but she would not be subjected to an occurrence of such a dreadful nature. Her gaze fell on a small kitchen knife that was left on the dining table. _How dangerous that is, especially with children about_, but she didn't question it as she grabbed it quickly and pointed it expertly at him.

Expertly? She didn't ponder on it.

He could see her chest heaving, see the sweat of anxiety dribble a little at the top of her forehead. Her hands seemed firm against the knife, and how he delighted in it. She would catch glimpses of Wonderland soon, then would despise him eternally. Though that was his favourite part. With another chuckle, he stepped toward her again with more apathy, loving how sweat was making her body shake but her hands had probably dried up around the knife. So brave, his little Alice.

She pressed the knife forward in a threatening gesture, and fought to keep her eyes clear through the pounding headache. Wasn't she overreacting? No, she was in danger. "Stay back, Doctor. I know how to use a knife, and I will not hesitate." He continued though, and she sputtered out once more, "I will not hesitate!"

He narrowed his eyes, and managed to knock the knife out of her hand with a speed Alice had not anticipated. She got a good little cut on his hand, though. The gasp she let out was muffled against his lips, and her hands, which reached for the knife, were suddenly chilled as he pinned her wrists against the table. With her wrists pinned, his knee moved forward and gently teased in between her legs which created a vibrating shudder through her body. She was too much in shock at the moment though to do more than suck in air.

What? He was going to rape her? Was he such a horrible man to think such a thing was justified ? Was he also a man who couldn't control his primal urges, a neanderthal at best? She had thought better of him but now was shocked with the sense of complete betrayal, and felt her body tighten as his body pressed against hers, molding.

His eyes kept on hers, and savored each reaction. His mouth melted more into hers, and he found himself aroused by the softness, and pliant nature that shock had given him. He kept rotating his knee, finding new ways to make her squirm beneath him every single time. He wanted to enjoy this as much as he could before she remembered for the day. So he let go of her wrists and mouth, and gripped her soft hair, pulling her down to her knees with a single tug. Her locks curled against his fingers, and seemed to lick his knuckles with their sweetness.

The pain was all she needed to get a hold of herself. With as much power as she could put into her voice, she screamed, "You vile, despicable man! Let me go, I say!" She kicked the floor and gripped her head as he dragged her down the hallways. The knife was too far away now, but something flashed in her head. The image of orphans scattered around the halls, talking about her. She felt perplexed by this new illusion (as there was no one around) and slowed down in her struggles. The pain just barely kept her from slipping into her own mind, and she tried to twist around, then opted to bury her nails into his hand.

He twitched at the sudden annoyance, and turned around to slap her harshly, letting go of her hair. The crack echoed within the empty building, and had her stunned for a couple of seconds. Red already began to bloom on her cheek as she found the will and opportunity to run back down the hallway. Her breath was caught in her throat, and she panted in horror as she kept running. He would catch her, and if he did, she would at least have to have the knife. The knife! She rushed down and barely caught it between her fingers before it slipped through as a strong arm wrapped itself around her waist and hoisted her up.

She screamed in frustration, and kicked frantically, trying to turn around to rip his eyeballs out. Bumby had lost all reserves, and cursed loudly as she kept flailing. His grip dug into her more and more and she found it hard to breathe as he struggled to walk back to his office. The wood creaked underneath them, and children laughter haunted her ears, frightening her inwardly.

"You stupid bitch, stop moving!", he shouted out, aware no one would listen to her cries from outside. They were all too familiar with it by now.

Alice had frozen in his arms, and tried to keep the horrified expression from her face because he meant death in his tone. But if she was going down, she'd rather be killed! She tried her to best to fight but unfortunately was unsuccessful in stopping his quest to his study. Bursting open the door, he threw her hard into the room. She landed on her back and felt it crack and cried out in aching pain. Bumby wiped off his face as he watched her turn onto her side, holding her back. Locking the door, he savored her enough, and raced towards her.

Gods, she was going to die. She was going to - _Come now, Alice. It's only a dream_. Her eyes widened, and she watched as he got on top of her and began to wrap his spidery fingers around her neck. The pressure was lost to her because she stared long at the man whose voice echoed through her head. A fire, her parents. Died in a fire with a reasonable explanation. The fireplace, and her cat. Illusions couldn't create fires. Medicine? From the High Street Chemist? Taken dry, felt rough going down? Hands down her dress, through her, pressing into her, heat? Her cough shook her body as her hands feebly attempted to pull his hands off her neck; the pressure only tightened and his unrelenting gaze kept straight at her, into her.

Bumby? Angus Bumby? He was ... he was not an illusion! He was real, just as real as her caretaker or the kid who pushed past her! He was alive and real, and - fury overtook her. It clouded her eyes, and made her cheeks flush hotly and made everything in her mind point to an astounding need to kill. The gaze she held toward him was pure rage and she felt her nails digging back into the flesh of his hand. She kicked underneath him, and managed to, after some struggling, get her knee under him then sharply brought it up, right into his crotch with a satisfying show of strength.

The pain sent him snarling off of her, attempting to remain with dignity as he stood on one knee and took in two shaking breaths while inhaling sharply. Alice had already stood up, but was coughing profusely and holding her bruising neck; the gaze never broke and the fire began to explode around them. Memories of fire, of whimpering noises, of betrayal and the whistle of a mad train. It all flooded into her and filled her to the brim before it poured over and overwhelmed her. He killed her family. He raped her Lizzie. He destroyed her Wonderland. How could she have forgotten?

"You vile, ugly, nasty, despicable, damnable bastard! You killed my family! How dare you!" She went towards him, all sharpness and teeth and tackled him with the fury and adrenaline of a wild cat. He went down and banged his head against the floor but chuckled airily through the seething pain, and gripped her hair much like you would to scruff an unruly cat. So blind in her rage, she kept forward and some strands of hair ripped out. He felt the ripped hair glide through his hand.

Bumby couldn't help but love the way she was right now. Full of energy, pounding malice. It made her eyes illuminate in an enticing way and he found himself wanting to gobble up the Alice he saw now, the Alice from Wonderland. Beautiful little Alice with her anger as high as the Queen of Hearts. While she attempted to strangle him from on top, he got his hands up her dress with a little difficulty and began to stroke the soft skin of her inner thigh, then her cunt. It wasn't wet, but it would be soon so he started gently to get it going.

Alice went rigid above him, then desperately tried to squirm but his fingers slipped over her, painfully arousing, and his mouth met hers and his teeth were nasty in their biting but hers was nastier. She already had him bleeding all around his lips, feeling his shudder of pleasure at the pain. _Disgusting_, she thought. _Absolutely disgus_ - she felt a jolt of pleasure and moaned into the kiss which gave Bumby the opportunity to mingle their tongues together, both fighting a losing battle. She felt her hips buck forward into his hand unconsciously and felt the grime settle inside her. She felt horrible, awful, copulating with the man who murdered her family.

"Get your hands off me, you - ah! S-Stop that!", she felt herself tighten around his fingers at they slowly went inside her. They felt long, and kept hitting spots inside of her she stopped caring to explore. They made her head get dizzy, and she fell regrettably limp against him. Bumby, letting his smile turn wide and mocking, lifted up her head and locked gazes with her. He licked the blood of his lips.

"Feeling under the weather, Alice Liddell? Honestly, I wasn't expecting such a fate from you everyday." His fingers slowly entered and exited, picking up pace with each gasping moan Alice made. "Then again, I didn't expect my work to bring me such a delightful fuck toy." He whispered into her ear, biting her lower lobe, massaging it between his teeth. Alice seethed, but her hands were much too weak as his fingers kept pressing, prodding, kneading into her every sense and pleasure. God, she could feel herself drip against his fingers.

She could barely care to remember his words. 'fate from you everyday?' What on earth had he meant? So many questions, so many.

"I can make you forget, Alice." He whispered again, letting go of her hair so she could fall on top of him. His other hand trailed down to his pants where he unbuttoned them, and took out his hardness. Alice tried to get off him through the haze and made it so her nail dug into the wood of his office floor. Just a couple of inches from them, there lied the couch she confessed her problems on to him. Her inner thoughts, and she remembered the awful oozing touch he left on her Wonderland. She kept gripping at the floor for a way to escape, and felt something prod at her entrance after the fingers were pulled out.

Gods, no!

"You wouldn't dar - ah! Fuck, ah!" She felt hot tears sting her vision and the corner of her eyes as the fullness of him entered, and stayed there. The heat from his member sent her reeling in pleasure. Bumby, on the other hand, smirked in triumph at another perfect meeting with Alice. As he adjusted to her tightening heat, he felt a small moan pass his lips as he saw her breaking in front of him. Her tears hit the wood floor and stained them a darker color, and her hands balled into ashamed fists; he clucked at her solemnly, and lifted up her dress to give her a sharp and sudden spank.

She gasped out, and gripped the floor tighter. Was the man seeking to humiliate her even more? Another spank had her seeing stars, and she attempted to curl away from him but a thrust into her had her gasping out and giving a low moan. Spank after spank gave her the sick satisfaction of lubricating his cock, but left her with the bitter taste of defeat, and self-loathing. He began to move quicker now, into her and out. His member thrust hard into her and left her blind and clawing with the thirst for more. He spanked her periodically, and gave out low moans and groans every now and then.

Alice couldn't speak coherently, and the pleasure nearly took over her mind. She had been so accustomed to his cock inside of her, feeling it pound and pulse, his arousal growing with each pained cry she gave to his scratching, biting, and spanking. Oh god, he had down this to her before, hadn't he? His cock was too familiar with her insides, his hands too much an expert with her body, his mouth too good at making her scream.

"Ah, bastard, st - ngh ... hah ..."

His chuckle was dark, and the husky sound made her tighten around him as he leaned over and whispered into her ear, "Go to Wonderland, Alice. Embrace the new Wonderland." His voice wasn't as steady as he would have liked, but she suddenly felt much too good for anything else. The pleasure ten-folded, and she was swept away like a seashell in a raging current. The spice of his breath, and the strength of his hands engulfed her and suddenly knew what it felt like to burn in a fire.

He felt her tighten once more then her eyes clouded over and she was moving her hips back into him with a force different from before. Alice felt her thigh muscles tighten and shake as her tightening sent him even further into his lust. Getting on her hands, she moaned loudly, and bit her lower lip to keep from screaming. God, it felt so good when she was pliant, and willing. If only for a little bit.

Feeling incredibly close, he began to quicken his thrusts, and his groans became louder, and his breathing faster. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head, and her toes tighten, body becoming as tight as a violin string. His cock was so delicious and big and pounding and she couldn't get enough of it. Wonderland, wonderland, wonderland. Why had such immense pleasure washed over her in such a short time with such trivial words? Of a child with a rabbit, and a habit for tea parties. His arousal grew bigger and she knew he was going to cum, and spread his seed inside of her.

With a small cry, Alice felt him pouring into her, and shuddered as she was denied the pleasure of an orgasm. Bumby, on the other hand, came on an oath and had gripped her hair tightly, biting into her shoulder till blood bloomed as the pleasure rocketed through him, leaving him satisfied and sweaty. A couple more thrusts, and he was finished.

"You may come back from Wonderland now, Alice." Within an instant of hearing this, she was sobbing into the floor. How could she have given herself to him like that? So shamelessly, so needy? She let a cry rock through her as he pulled out and put away his arousal.

She decided getting up was not an option and decided to lie there.

He was amused, and grabbed her by her arm, lifting her up. She wouldn't even look at him at the moment, and he relished in it. Felt it deep in his bones. Her hair fell over her face, and spit dried on her chin along with crusted blood on the lips. Her eyes were downcast, a shadow of herself. She despised herself! Such an atrocity like this, and she got wet, and was his fucking slut! How could she possibly sink anymore low?

He leaned into her face as she flinched away from him, and murmured, "You may go to sleep, Alice. You're floating. My dear, precious, Alice. My toy," he stroked her cheek, and scratched her face right across, and added as she yelped, "My broken, and beautiful bitch." His eyes were wide with an unsettled pair of dilated pupils, and a malicious smile.

"You'll pay..." She slurred out, eyes focused and unfocused on him. She gripped his shoulders for leverage but found her fingers too weak to grip anything. What had this awful man done to her? To make her such a disgusting person? Her vision soon slipped from her, and the sounds of a happy birthday song played tunelessly throughout her head. Everything was black. The poison had touched her again.

She was hopeless, and soon fell from the realm of thought.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of birds.

Gods, her head hurt.

Her body was completely sore from top to bottom, and her throat was dry. She tried coughing and speaking, but nothing came out for a while until a hoarse noise came out. She sighed out in frustration, and got off the bed; it creaked in protest. She looked up at the room absentmindedly, and yawned into her hand. She felt her pockets for her notepad, but found money instead. She pulled it out, confused. When had she gotten this money? Perhaps one of the children put it in there after stealing it. What a rotten thing to do, she thought and put on her little shoes.

Alice looked out the window, and found morning to be bright and apparent. Another day, she thought. She couldn't complain, though.

She was about to walk downstairs, but fixed her hair a little in the mirror. Her 'Mother' would complain and she didn't want to hear any of that nonsense especially when she felt the an oncoming sickness. She saw a little red smeared on her lip, and licked her finger, rubbing it off. How odd. Perhaps one of the children put a red lollipop on her face. She wouldn't put it past them.

Alice calmly stepped down the stairs after playing with her hair, and caught a glimpse of her caretaker talking to someone. She couldn't see him correctly because he was turned around with a large hat on but her caretaker noticed her, and beckoned her over.

Nodding as to not seem impolite, she walked over and found her caretaker smacking her straight on her head. Alice gasped, and held her head, shouting, "Why in the world did you do that?!"

Her caretaker crossed her arms, and pointed to the man in front of her. Alice turned to stare at him, and immediately recognized it was the Doctor from down the street. She bit her lip and wondered why such a prestigious man was here at such early an hour. Surely he had other important things to do, and she didn't want to be bothered with such an illusion. After all, the caretaker was only playing along with her madness. She glanced at him, then looked back at her 'mother'.

"You've been causing a lot of trouble, Alice. He had to carry you across the street here when you were all mangled and jangled up! Nearly gave me quite the heart attack, finding you ripped to pieces! You should apologize, and thank him for his generosity."

Ripped to pieces? What in the world was she talking about? Jibber jabber, she muttered to herself and turned to Bumby. Why should she apologize to him for being hurt, and being taken care of? She should say thank you, not both. The logic never ceased to astound her.

"I'm sorry for causing you so much problems. Believe me, I was unaware of such things." She then gave him a small bow, and watched his cool eyes simmer on her. It made her shift slightly but she thought nothing of it. He then leaned down and inclined his hat to her, and replied with a voice made of honey and aged paper, "No, Alice Liddell,

"The pleasure is entirely mine."  
_

**A/N: Writing this for two hours straight on a wave of inspiration. If you see fit, please review or leave a comment. Any comments, or positive critiques would be amazing. They spur me on, and make me happy. **


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